


Rust

by clairdeloon



Series: Dust to Dust [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Conflict, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Karen deserves an honorable mention, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23030995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairdeloon/pseuds/clairdeloon
Summary: Three times Tony got mad at Peter for missing curfew and the one time he didn’t.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Dust to Dust [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1447513
Comments: 35
Kudos: 229





	Rust

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I decided to jump on the +1 things bandwagon, and I hope you enjoy the ride with me.
> 
> Seventh in the [Dust to Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1447513) series. I recommend reading [From the Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151595/chapters/47740975) for context.

_Rust: a reddish substance that coats iron or steel upon extended exposure to moisture, leading to corrosion; to wear away or erode._

**1:**

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

Peter jolted, narrowly avoiding tripping over the edge of the building he was perched upon. “Dang it,” he muttered. “Fine, Karen, put him through.”

“I’m quite certain he’ll put himself through, regardless of your opinion on the matter.”

Peter scowled, swallowing anxiously when Tony’s voice echoed through the line.

“When we discussed your curfew, Peter, I don’t recall mentioning a clause that made the time open to interpretation.”

Peter bit his lip at the stiffness in Tony’s voice. “Sorry, I lost track of time. Really!”

He heard Tony’s irritated sigh. “Just- get home.” The call ended.

Within ten minutes, Peter was sliding through the open kitchen window and creeping into the living room. He stopped short when he found Tony seated on the couch, nursing a steaming mug, and MJ curled up on her usual armchair with her nose in a book. Tony lifted his head at Peter’s entrance, raising his eyebrows, but not saying a word.

Peter glanced at the floor, rubbing at a smudge of dirt on his boot with his other foot. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.” He peeked up at Tony, finding that the man’s expression had softened slightly.

“I’m sure you didn’t, buddy.” He set his mug on the coffee table. “But you gotta do better than that. I can’t have you swinging around at all hours, even during your summer break.”

Peter exhaled, glancing at the floor again. Yes, he’d agreed on a curfew after Tony had discovered his alter ego, but why couldn’t the man understand that helping people was more important? That he couldn’t stop when he heard the scream from two blocks away, or the squeal of tires, or even the frightened mewling of a cat stuck in a tree. What was he supposed to do, leave it in there all night?

“Sorry,” Peter said again, swallowing down the words he really wanted to say.

Tony pushed himself to his feet, wincing a little. “It’s okay, kiddo, I think I can let it slide just this once.” He gave Peter a half-smile. “Now, go shower, you smell like eau de sweaty teenager.”

MJ snorted. Peter gave her the finger. Tony pretended not to notice. 

**2:**

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

“Damn it,” Peter groaned, limping over to the curb of the sidewalk and sitting down gingerly to relieve the pressure he’d been putting on his sore knee. How was he supposed to predict that the burglar would run in swinging with a metal bat? He’d been lucky only his knee had been hit as he’d backflipped to avoid it.

“Second time in two weeks, Peter.”

Peter cringed a little at the controlled irritation in Tony’s voice.

“Sorry.” Peter rubbed his knee and winced at the throb.

“Are you?”

Peter didn’t answer, chewing his lip.

“Get home. Now.”

Tony was waiting for Peter by the window he usually crawled through, and he didn’t look happy.

“Did we or did we not just have a discussion about missing curfew?”

Peter looked away. “Yes, sir.”

Tony sighed heavily, but he didn’t respond, not even to tell Peter not to call him sir. An unpleasant jolt shot through Peter’s stomach.

“Look at me, Peter.” 

Peter looked up reluctantly to meet Tony’s stern gaze. The man reached over to grip his shoulder and started to lead him to the living room, but he paused, glancing down at Peter’s leg.

“What hurts?” he asked in a noticeably softer tone. 

Peter shrugged, looking away. “It’s just my knee. It’s fine.” Tony huffed a breath and pushed Peter down onto the closest seat. 

There was a silent pause, and Peter looked up again, anxious. Tony’s expression was tight, but Peter couldn’t tell if he was angry, stressed, or something else entirely.

“Get that suit off, would you? I wanna take a look at your leg.”

Peter’s face heated. “I’m not wearing pants under- I can’t just-”

Tony threw him an exasperated look, lightly tinged with amusement. “Trust me, kiddo, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

Peter grimaced, his face reddening further, and he crossed his arms over his chest tightly.

Tony considered him for a moment before releasing a breath through his teeth. “All right, I’ll get you some pants, and don’t even _think_ about moving.”

Peter nodded at his lap, and he didn’t look up until Tony returned with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was Peter’s favorite, the navy one with the lame science pun.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered, standing up carefully. He waited until Tony turned his back before stepping out of his suit and dressing as quickly as he could.

He swallowed. “You can, uh, turn around now.”

Tony swiveled around on his heel and gently pushed Peter back into the chair by his shoulders. He then pulled up a chair to sit opposite Peter and motioned for him to lift his leg. Peter lifted it slightly, and Tony wrapped a hand around Peter’s ankle, resting it on his lap. After a moment’s pause, he pushed the leg of Peter’s sweats up to expose his visibly swollen and rapidly bruising knee.

“I’m no MD, but logic tells me you’d better stay off this leg for a few days.”

“I heal way faster than tha-”

Tony shut him up with a hard look. “And how convenient it is that it’s Friday, and you can spend the weekend grounded while your knee heals.”

“But-”

“Don’t even try, Peter.”

Peter closed his mouth, gritting his teeth. This was so unfair! He hadn’t been that late, and the curfew was so arbitrary, anyhow. 

_What effing difference does it make if I get home twenty minutes earlier or later?_

Tony’s carefully controlled expression stopped Peter from voicing his thoughts.

“Yes, Tony,” he said, unable to mask the resentment in his tone.

Something in Tony’s expression softened. “Peter, I didn’t set this curfew to annoy you. I’m trying to keep you safe.” His lips tightened. “Even if it makes you hate me.”

Peter tensed. “I don’t- I don’t hate you,” he said in a quiet voice.

The man smiled then, widely enough to reach his eyes, and Peter’s shoulders loosened. He didn’t even pretend to be annoyed when Tony reached out to ruffle his hair, already mussed from yanking his mask off.

“This isn’t fun for me, either,” Tony said quietly, lowering his hand to rest on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter swallowed, forcing himself to meet the man’s eyes. “I’m not trying to- I shouldn’t- after everything you’ve done for me-”

“No,” Tony cut him off, and he grabbed Peter’s other shoulder. “I’m- your parent. You don’t need to thank me for it.”

Peter furrowed his brow.

“What I mean is, that whatever I do for you is nothing more than you already deserve, you hear me?” He fixed Peter with that intense gaze he wore whenever their discussions grew serious.

Peter glanced away. “I guess…”

“I’m doing what a parent does, which, in my estimation, is taking care of you, keeping you safe, and yes, grounding you when I think it’s necessary.”

Peter let out a muffled sort of groan, but he couldn’t really stir up the motivation to be angry. Not after what Tony had just said.

“Grounding sucks.”

Tony chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. Peter scowled, but he didn’t pull away.

**3:**

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

Peter groaned loudly, staggering to a stop on the ground as he landed. “Dammit, Karen!”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

Peter deflated a little, kicking a rock out of his way. “Sorry, Karen, I know it’s not your fault.”

“Peter, are you hurt?” came Tony’s frantic voice through the line.

Peter’s stomach dropped. “N-no. No, Tony, I’m fine, I swear!”

“Home. _Now_.”

Peter arrived home in record time, nearly toppling through the kitchen window in his haste. Only Tony’s waiting hands catching him by the shoulders prevented him from falling flat on his face.

Peter slowly looked up, cringing, to meet Tony’s eyes. The man’s face was like stone.

“How many times, Peter?” he asked in a controlled voice. “How many times do we need to go over this?”

Peter shrugged, pressing his lips together. He lowered his eyes and watched as Tony’s fingers slowly curled into fists. Half a year ago, Peter might have been afraid, might have cringed or flinched back with the remembered fear of Skip’s cold rage, his belt, and his fists, despite knowing that Tony would never, ever hurt him. But now, Peter saw Tony’s anger and felt a combination of guilt and frustration, knowing that he was the one to put that anger there, yet believing that his actions were justified, and that Tony was overreacting, and that he didn’t understand. But no fear. Never fear.

Peter looked back up at Tony, who trapped him in his gaze for a moment before closing his eyes.

“All right,” Tony said flatly. “I’m confiscating the suit. For a week.”

All Peter’s feelings of guilt flew straight out of the window. “What? No! You can’t, that’s not fair-”

“You know what’s not fair? You using the suit that I provided for you, ignoring my rules, and leaving me to call _you_ to make sure you aren’t lying dead somewhere!”

Peter clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stare at Tony’s angry face. “You’re just being overprotective, and controlling-”

Tony cut him off with a glare. “I’ve heard enough out of you. Get upstairs, get the suit off, and bring it down to me. If you’re not back here in ten, I’m taking the suit for two weeks instead of one.”

With a growl of frustration, Peter stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, feeling Tony’s stare press into the back of his neck.

**+1:**

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.”

Silence.

“Peter, you’d better be passed out in a ditch, because-”

A faint, rattling gasp.

“Peter! Peter, talk to me, please-”

“Peter’s heart rate is steadily dropping, and he has lost approximately twenty-six percent of his blood volume due to a stab wound in his lower abdomen.

“Karen! What’s his location? Tell me!”

A whirring sound, a thump, and Tony’s petrified face swimming in front of him.

Nothing.

*****

Peter blinked his eyes open, then quickly squeezed them shut against the light.

“FRIDAY, dim the lights,” Peter heard someone say. Tony, it was Tony.

Peter opened his eyes again cautiously, finding the light to be much more tolerable. He glanced around the room.

“Where am I?” he croaked. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, followed by a steady beeping sound that he realized had been there all along. 

A warm hand rested on Peter’s arm.

“It’s okay, Peter.” Peter turned his head to the side to find Tony sitting next to the bed he was lying on. “You’re in the medical unit of the tower.”

Peter tried to push himself up by his arms, but he slumped backward with a pained whimper.

“Hey, hey, buddy,” Tony said in a soft tone. “Easy.” The man rose from his seat to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and easing him back down. “You’re okay.”

Peter blinked tears out of his eyes, reaching up to wipe them away. Tony squeezed his shoulders a little more tightly.

“You remember what happened?”

Peter creased his forehead. “I… got stabbed, right?” He swallowed. “I don’t-” his voice broke off into a croak, and he felt his eyes start to water again.

“Shh,” Tony murmured. “It’s okay, you’re just fine.”

But he didn’t _feel_ fine. His body ached, every inch of it, and he felt as though his stomach should have been agony if not for the medication he’d most likely been given. And he could remember flashes. A shout, the glint of a knife, a shock of pain…”

But Tony was holding him close, and that made things just a little bit better.

Dr. Cho walked in sometime later to redress his wound, so Tony moved into the chair to give her space to work. After she left, Tony didn’t come back to the bed, but he sat there, watching Peter, barely blinking, as though he thought Peter would fade away if he closed his eyes.

*****

The next time Peter opened his eyes, he found MJ sitting inches away from him, glaring.

“Hi,” he said hoarsely.

MJ pressed her lips together, still glaring.

Peter closed his eyes. “Are you gonna say something, or what?”

“You. Almost. Died.”

Peter’s eyes shot open at MJ’s cold tone. He opened his mouth, but snapped it shut when MJ shot out of her seat.

“You- you don’t even- you could’ve died, and for what!” MJ ended in a shout that had Peter pulling back in shock.

MJ leaned over him, her face pale and utterly, utterly furious. “Do you have any fucking idea-” her voice broke, and suddenly she was pressing her lips together and squeezing her eyes shut and tears were rolling down her face. She dropped back into her seat and pressed both hands against her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Don’t you think we’ve all lost enough?” She dropped her hands, not bothering to wipe the tears away. “How could you just- you stupid-” She clenched her fists, as though she wanted to shake Peter until his teeth rattled but was holding back due to his condition.

Peter’s lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry,” his voice emerged shakily. How could he not be, with MJ looking at him like that, tears still streaking down her face, fear easy to discern under the anger, the fear he had put there.

MJ swiped her hand roughly across her face. “Do you think we wouldn’t care if you went and died on us?” she asked sharply. 

“Of course I don’t-”

“Well, you’re acting like- like you’re the only one who’s affected by all of this.”

“I don’t think that! I- I’m sorry, okay? I really am.”

MJ just sighed, shaking her head at him. She took a step back, but Peter reached forward, panicked, to grab her hand before she could leave. 

“Please, MJ,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “Don’t be mad.”

MJ’s face softened a little, and she stepped closer, grasping his other hand. She stood there for a moment, motionless, then let go to pull his blanket up to his chin. Peter relaxed slightly, a sudden exhaustion washing over him.

MJ stepped back, her hand brushing his shoulder as she moved away.

“Get some sleep.”

Peter watched her go through blurred eyes.

*****

Peter was back to normal within a week, but he didn’t go out as Spider-Man, not after one week, two weeks, or three. Every time he looked at the suit, all he could see was MJ’s fury and her tears. Tony’s pale face, more frightened than Peter had ever seen.

So he didn’t go out, and no one said a word about it. He focused on his online summer college courses and ongoing projects in the lab, and it was fine. Ned was on vacation with his mom and sister in Thailand, and he sent pictures every day. Peter didn’t tell him what had happened.

But Peter kept hearing the screams at night, when he listened for them, The shouts for help, the help he should have been giving, and eventually, he couldn’t ignore them.

And it was fine. He stopped the crime, webbed up the perps, complete with a note for the police, and arrived home three minute before his curfew without a scratch on him. 

Tony didn’t say anything when he walked in. Tony wasn’t even there waiting for him, he was in his lab, as FRIDAY confirmed, but he undoubtedly knew exactly when Peter had entered the house.

MJ was there, sketching, her eyes glazed over the way they did when she was absorbed in a project to the point that she forgot to eat, sleep, and occasionally breathe.

Peter shrugged and stepped back into the kitchen to shovel down half a pie of leftover pizza.

*****

It didn’t take Peter long to figure out that Tony had altered his suit to track his location and vital signs, because apparently Karen just wasn’t enough. He didn’t mess with it, even though he could have, with the suit right there in front of him and Tony nowhere in sight.

If Peter was honest with himself, he would do the exact same thing if it were MJ’s suit, or Ned’s, or even Tony’s if he could get away with it.

But it did make it easy for Peter to shove away the guilt for frightening everyone so much, so he went out again that night and stopped two burglaries, an attempted car theft auto, and a cat from being run over.

The errant driver was staring at him incredulously as Peter held the car in place until the cat made its way safely to the sidewalk.

“You almost made that cat go splat, dude,” he called through the open window. “Humans are one thing, but cats? Gotta stay on their good sides, or they might steal your soul.”

The driver yelled an obscenity at him, and Peter backed off with his hands up. “Rude,” he muttered as the car sped away.

“Karen, why are people like this?” Peter asked as he walked over to sit on the curb, next to where the cat had scampered to, and he reached over to pet it mindlessly.

“My understanding is that most people are too focused on their own lives to see what is happening around them.”

Peter blew out a breath. “You always have the answers, don’t you, Karen?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Show off,” Peter huffed. He scratched the cat behind its ears, and it purred contentedly.

“I’m programmed to remind you that your curfew is in fifteen minutes,” Karen said.

Peter sighed. “I’m going, I’m going.”

He meant to get home on time, really did, but it only took him a few extra minutes to snatch the gun out of the latest perp’s hand and web both it and the guy to the wall before he could finish beating the victim to death for his wallet.

Peter climbed through the kitchen window just a few minutes late, and this time, Tony was there, sitting at the table with a coffee and his tablet. He tensed, half-expecting Tony’s anger, and half not knowing what to expect at all.

Tony didn’t say a word. He just looked at Peter, his eyes scanning up and down before stopping, as though satisfied, to take another sip of coffee.

“Busy night?” he asked casually.

Peter blinked at him, momentarily at a loss for words. “Uh… yeah.” His voice emerged as a croak. Tony sipped his coffee.

“I’m just gonna…” Peter left the room hurriedly to shower and change. He should have been relieved, but instead, he felt...strange, anxious, as though he’d landed in an alternate universe where everything was just slightly different yet mostly the same.

He pulled on his pajamas and rubbed his hair dry, moving towards his bed, but he balked, just staring at the bedspread, feeling odd. Feeling alone.

Almost desperately, he stumbled out of his room and into the living room, heaving a sigh of relief when he found MJ there, in her usual armchair, reading from Tony’s version of a Kindle that he’d created for her birthday. She quirked her lips at him before turning back to the book, and Peter dropped onto the couch. Through the open door, he could see the back of Tony’s head, still in the kitchen.

His breaths starting coming short and fast.

*****

Tony glanced up from his tablet at the sound of footsteps.

“Tony,” MJ said flatly from behind him. He turned his head and was startled to find her glaring at him mutinously. She inhaled sharply before speaking again. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you have to stop, because Peter’s _freaking_ out in there. He’s saying you hate him, that you don’t want him-”

The tablet slipped out of Tony’s hand and landed on the table with a _thump._

“What? Why would he-? That’s not-”

“Whatever it is, you have to fix this, because I don’t know what to do-”

“Damn it,” Tony muttered, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans as he made for the door. 

His stomach dropped when he saw Peter curled at the edge of the couch in the living room, arms wrapped around his legs and his face buried against his knees. Along with the kid’s spidey powers, he seemed to have developed the ability to curl himself into a ball that appeared too small to be physically possible. Tony found it funny most of the time, but seeing the kid like this now made him feel like he’d been punched in the stomach.

He approached the kid slowly and sat beside him, laying a careful hand on the kid’s back.

“Peter?” he asked gently. He could feel the kid trembling under his hand. Peter pulled away, digging himself further into the couch, and his breaths started emerging in short, shallow gasps.

“You hate- you hate me- you don’t want-” 

“Peter!” Tony squeezed the kid’s shoulders tightly. “Breathe, kiddo, come on, breathe with me…”

Mercifully, Peter’s breaths slowly evened out, and Tony held on to him all the while as he talked the kid through it. When the kid regained his breath, his shoulders started trembling again, and it took Tony a moment to realize that Peter had begun crying silently into his hands.

“Peter, buddy…” Tony tried to pull Peter closer, and although he didn’t resist, the kid held himself stiff and uncooperative. 

“Peter, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” He rubbed careful circles on the kid’s back. “Come on, kiddo, look at me?”

Peter shook his head slightly, his face still hidden.

“Peter, I...the opposite of hate you. Damn it, I-”

Peter lifted his head from his hands abruptly and stared at Tony through reddened eyes, tears clinging to his lashes and dripping from his chin.

“What?” he asked, his tone somehow sharp despite the tears clogging his throat. “ _What_?”

Tony watched him helplessly for a moment before reaching forward slowly to cup the kid’s face in his hands. He heaved a breath that didn’t ease the tightness in his chest.

“I- I love you, kid.” Tony forced himself to maintain eye contact. “God, Peter, I love you so goddamn much, I don’t know how to-”

He broke off as Peter’s eyes grew wide. There was something desperate about the way Peter was looking at him, hope warring with the fear that maybe it wasn’t true. Peter’s eyes fluttered shut as Tony swiped a thumb over his cheek to catch a stray tear.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, still cupping the kid’s face in his hands, then opened them to find the kid staring at him.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo, I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t- I just…”

“W-why?” Peter said through a hiccup. “Why did you-?”

Tony sighed heavily, lowering his hands to his lap. “You scared the life out of me, kid.” His shoulders tightened. “I thought I was going to lose you, and-” his voice cracked. “Honestly, I just didn’t know what to do. Even after all of that, I still couldn’t seem to get through to you. I thought maybe if I… backed off, you might come to me, instead of me trying to run after you. It doesn’t matter, because it was obviously a really stupid move.”

Peter watched him for a moment, his lower lip trembling slightly. “Y-you said- when I asked what you- what you’d do if I m-made you mad, you said you wouldn’t ignore me.” Peter turned his face to the side and pressed his shaking hands against his knees.

“I wasn’t ignoring-”

“Well, it felt like it,” Peter said hoarsely, swiping at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. “It felt like you didn’t _care_ -”

“Damn it, kid, come here…” Tony opened his arms, and his chest loosened when the kid let himself be pulled into a hug.

“Listen to me,” he said quietly, cupping his hand on the back of Peter’s head and pulling him close to his chest. “I will _never_ not care about you. Never. The only universe in which I don’t care about you, in which I don’t- love you, is the one where I haven’t met you yet.”

Peter’s shoulder twitched in response, and he pressed his face further into Tony's chest.

“I’m so sorry, buddy. The last thing I was trying to do here was hurt you. I was just trying to get you to listen, but I clearly caught a nasty case of the stupids and disregarded a whole boatload of trauma…”

Peter turned his head in Tony’s arms and met the man's gaze. “It’s okay.” He gave a small, tremulous smile before hiding his face against Tony’s chest again. “I’ll do better, too.”

They remained there in silence for several moments, unmoving aside from Tony still stroking Peter’s hair.

Peter shifted back slightly, wiping his eyes. “This is embarrassing,” he muttered. “I’m almost fifteen, and I’m crying all over you like a little kid…”

“Well, I’m fifty and I need a hug, so get back in here.”

Peter snorted, but he allowed Tony to wrap him in another hug.

“You’re old,” he mumbled against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony chuckled, tugging the kid’s ear in mock reprimand. “I’ll let that one slide, on account of my immense dumbassery.”

“I love you too.”

Tony blinked hard against the suspicious wetness in his eyes.

*****

Tony found MJ in the lab, fiddling with a hologram. She turned her head when he entered.

“Whatcha up to?” Tony asked, peering over her shoulder.

“I’m animating one of my drawings.”

“That’s really something,” Tony remarked. “You’ll have to show me your work in detail sometime.”

“Sure,” she said with a twitch of her lips.

“Can you put that on pause for a sec?” Tony asked. “Just wanna talk to you for a minute.”

MJ swiveled her chair around, and Tony pulled up another one and sat down, facing her.”

“What’s up?” she asked.

Tony took a breath. “Firstly, I want to apologize. I screwed up big time with Peter, and you got pulled into it, and it absolutely was not your responsibility to have to knock sense into me, so I’m sorry.”

MJ studied him carefully for a moment, and Tony had to make a conscious effort not to break eye contact.”

“It’s okay,” she finally said. “I know you didn’t mean to...I know you weren’t…” she huffed, clearly finding it difficult to articulate her thoughts. “It’s whatever. I forgive you.”

Tony smiled, clapping his hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, kiddo.” He took a long breath. “One more thing, and I’ll leave you alone.”

She looked at him expectantly.

“I’ve told Peter this, and I gotta tell you, too.”

MJ furrowed her brow. “Tell me what?”

“Are you telling me you weren’t eavesdropping on my conversation with Peter earlier?”

She just blinked at him. Damn, she wasn’t going to make this easy, was she?

“What I mean is, I love you, kid. Just as much as Peter. I know I don’t say it. At all. But it’s true.”

A rare smile broke through MJ’s normally controlled features. She reached forward slowly, hesitantly, and Tony didn’t dare move an inch until she rested her hand on his forearm and wrapped her fingers around it.

“I know it’s hard to say,” she said softly, not quite meeting his eyes. Tony pressed his hand down on top of hers, and her eyes rose to meet his. “It’s hard for me, also.” She swallowed audibly. “But I- for you and Peter, I- I feel it too.”

Though she stumbled over her words and could not quite maintain eye contact, the sincerity with which she spoke was clear as day, and the firmness of her grasp on Tony’s forearm attested to her trust in him, and in what they and Peter shared.

And later, Tony would leave MJ to her work and find Peter upstairs in the living room, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes drooping, with his college textbook still open on his lap.

But he’d shift closer when Tony sat beside him, steadily so until his head rested on Tony’s shoulder, and eventually his breaths would even out.

MJ would come upstairs and find them there, Peter fast asleep and Tony on his way, and she’d sit on Tony’s other side, not quite close enough to touch, and eventually fall asleep too.

And Tony, moments away from sleep himself, would lie back and listen to them breathe.  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one. Please don’t hesitate to drop a comment, I get super excited about every one of them.
> 
> For now, I've decided to end the series here. I may update the series again at some point if an idea strikes, but this is where I'm signing off for the time being.
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your support.


End file.
